Flirtatious voting and other oddities

Women hit on me in restrooms. Sure, the first few times it happened it freaked me out. Then it just became one of those things that happened with frightening regularity.

Not long after I first came out, a very drunk, straight woman tried to make out with me in the loo at Martha’s. She wrapped her arms around me, declared my beauty and was just about to kiss me when I saw this sheepish looking guy standing in the doorway. She whipped around to see what I was looking at.

“Oh, him? He’s just my husband.”

Yeah. That was awkward.

Upon reflection, I realize that I never get hit on in a normal fashion. Women flirt with me at work (again in the can), at the dry cleaners, and there was even that memorable gal who chatted me up over tomatillos at the grocery. I’m not the kind of girl who gets play just hanging out at the bar or some place one would typically go to meet someone.

Today, I got hit on at my polling place. I went to do my civic duty, vote on the sales tax and try to pick one of the mayoral candidates that wasn’t crazy … not sure I was successful, but let’s hope I picked the lesser of numerous evils.

I digress.

As I was leaving, I made my way across the parking lot and there was a large pile of snow between me and my car. I had my boots on, so I commenced scaling.

Then I heard this sultry voice behind me, “You think that snow is hard enough to hold us up?”

I turned to see a tall, dark-haired woman in workout gear. She flashed me a large smile and gave me the once over. Ugh.

And of course this has gotten worse since I got in a relationship. What is it about unavailability that makes one more attractive? Further, I wasn’t even looking all that attractive. I’d had a full day at the office, was disheveled and was dressed in what can only be describe as early tree (lots of brown).

She was giving me this weird look like she half-expected I was going to help her over the berm of snow in some chivalrous gesture.

Yeah, right. She was far taller and in far better shape than I. Given we were at a school and her workout gear, I kind of wondered if she was the P.E. teacher. Because stereotypes are funny because they’re based in fact. Sigh.